


there's nobody better than you

by midkei



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013)
Genre: Ableist Language, Acceptance, Angst, Codependency, Gaslighting, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Married Couple, Misunderstandings, Possessive Behavior, Separation Anxiety, Threats of Violence, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midkei/pseuds/midkei
Summary: everytime the door opens, adam isn't sure who he sees.----just don't leave me alone wondering where you are / you're coming back, and it's the end of the world
Relationships: Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	there's nobody better than you

**Author's Note:**

> hi folks!! i hope you all enjoy this fic. please heed the tags.  
> this is a serious fic exploring what could go wrong in adam and nigels relationship. a lot of their content is fluffy, and i love that. happy spacedogs is one of the cutest things, but if we pair adam and nigel together from their sources, i dont think it would be all happy.  
> this fic is about unhealthy relationships and adams and nigels faults. they are far from perfect people.
> 
> the things shown here are not good relationships and i dont endorse or want them for anyone. i do not endorse language the characters use, what they do or how they act. this is just fiction and if you think any of this may effect you, please read cautiously !

1.  
When Nigel spoke to his lover, his darling Adam, he meant what he said. He meant it with total and utter certainty, like he’d never been so confident. He always said ‘I love you’, whenever it mattered.

Nigel wasn’t sure his lover always felt the same.

The man faulted, skidding the phone on the dining room table, his dark shoe bounced on the wood floor. A sense of being unsettled buried itself in the bit of his stomach. Adam had been locked in his own room for pactically the whole day, doing things he deemed more important than Nigel, only coming out for the usual time he ate or other minor things.

Nigel could say, with a smile, he was never one for control. He wanted his lovers to be indepdent, free to make their own choices and come back to him for support. But he knew with his whole heart that wasn’t true.

He wanted to, or some part of him did, control them; make their choices for them and for them to rely on him. It made something flicker in his chest, a kind of power and possessiveness that made him content. It made him feel complete.

It was the one thing that Adam was lacking to give recently. He was so caught up in his own business.

“Nigel? It’s six-thirty.” Adam’s softer voice called out, poking his head through his bedroom doorway.

Six-thirty, Nigel ran through his mind for the time, remembering it was the time Adam always set aside for dinner, everyday, then supper at eight, bed at midnight. Everyday, the same routine. Nigel sure wasn’t used to such a constant before, but he’d grown to be.

“Right. You put it on.”

Adam nodded from out of Nigel’s view, his head still focused on the empty table with a turned off phone. He’d been staring into the wood, thinking for a while. That wasn’t a surprise recently.  
He heard Adam shuffling, grabbing what was probably Mac and Cheese for the severalth time this week and preparing it.  
That, again, was a thing that nagged at him in the start. Nigel had never had such a refined palete before though, so he got over it farely quickly. There was a lot of things he would do for Adam. A lot.

“Nigel? Are you going to set the table?”

But he wasn’t sure how long he could keep doing them like this.

"Yeah, I am."

  
Nigel pushed his chair away from the table , walking over to the larger, more cleaner dining table. Plates were just below it, stuffed, or neat, depending on who put them away, in a little cupboard. He swung the door open, grabbing the plain dishes and throwing them on the table, without much care as long as they were done in the right place.

He could see Adam from the corner of his eye, his head snapping towards the noise of Porcelain banging on wood. His eyes lingered for a moment, but he didn't say anything, instead bringing the pan of steaming food over to the table.

Nigel watched him, mouth in a tight line, now slouching on a pulled out chair.  
A lot of things buzzed through his head, but the most prominent, a question.

Adam was standing there, doing the food like he always does, his routine, Nigel had noted that first when he started dating Adam.  
Acting as if nothing had happened or took place. It nipped at Nigel, something that could be seen as so inconsequential to others.

Did Adam think that behaviour was normal? Did he just note it as being busy? Did he not care about not seeing his husband for most of the day?  
His mind worked differently, that was one thing Nigel knew.

A plate shifted on the table, Adam putting his fork on the side, without letting it touch the food. He pulled out his char again, making a movement for the laptop neatly laid on the other table.

"Adam."  
The man stopped, looking at Nigel with his eyebrows raised.  
"Not tonight, yeah? I've got a headache."

Nigel knew he shouldn't. He knows Adam watches that show every night, like he relies on it to stomach food. But he can't cope with it tonight. Maybe he doesn't have a headache, but the same episodes of the same series he's already seen will grind on his skull until it gives him one.

"...If you've got a headache, there's some painkillers in the bathroom-"  
He suggests. Nigel tilts his head, he knows what a bargaining Adam looks like.

"No, it's fine. Just not tonight."

An 'oh' resounded from Adam. He awkwardly stepped back into his chair, picking his fork up, head tilting down but staring at the wall.

He would eat in a minute, he would settle. Nigel could bet on it.  
The older man sighed, rubbing his temple. The headache came back to get him.

It seems the universe didn't care if there was noise from a TV show blaring, or just the soft clinking of cutlery on a plate, it set the thumping in his temple off.  
He would say it was matched with the guilt of a now not so hungry Adam, but that would be a bare faced fucking lie. He tried to avoid those whenever possible.

He didn't feel guilty, though.

2.  
Sometimes, a deep uncomfort settled itself in Adam. It burrowed inside his head, like a parasite, nesting there.  
He could never pinpoint the exact source.  
A list ran in his head, checking all possibilities off.  
A new person Nigel had introduced him to, a change in his routine, he had seen something unsettling, he was lonely. There were always a lot of options, but nothing seemed to fit.

That's why he put it down to a combination of things, instead of getting stuck on just one. But that was usually, and this wasn't usual. This time he had the exact reason, buried in his skin like a scar. It bit away at him piece by piece, it wasn't something he knew how to confront.

It wasn't comfortable to confront his husband.  
The issue wasn't with Nigel himself, not strictly. He loved Nigel. But his work, his job, he didn't love that.

Nigel had never told Adam exactly what his job was, and he never asked. He didn't want to know all the details, but Nigel seemed perfectly happy hearing about Adams old job, or his interests or degrees, so he listened.

Nigel didn't have that much to tell Adam about his job, aside from all the things he heard about the strip club he frequented with Darko, who was a 'business partner and friend'. Adam was fine with that, he loved to hear Nigel talk about anything he wanted to.  
But it suddenly became un-fine, and uncomfortable when his job interfered with their daily lives.

Adam was a lot of things, but he was not stupid. He knew he married a criminal. It was almost written on Nigel within the first few meetings they had.

He brought himself out of his trance for a moment, hunched on the floor, with his hand outstretched. The silence of the apartment crept into his ears, having to resist the high pitched ringing that dared to accompany it.  
A silver band with various engravings that meant deeply personal things to both Adam and Nigel.  
His fingers turned the band on his finger, twisting it back and forth, in a repetitive motion.

He knew who he married, and he would do it again if he could.  
But he didn't marry his job, and neither did Nigel.

It became an issue when Nigel was away. Once or twice was fine, understandable. But he was out for most of the day, and his lack of presence stung.  
He had gotten so used to Nigels constant presence, without it felt like a fundamental piece of him was apart.

Even when Adam was busy with his own things, his own studies and interests, he was still in his bedroom, without anywhere else to go. He was still close to Nigel. A few rooms away. In the same building.

After all, Adam didn't have a job to go to anymore.

But that was fine, they had made sure it was fine.

Adam pushed himself off of the floor, his socks slick aganist the hard wood. His soft footsteps ecoched aganist the walls of his living room.  
His hands rubbed aganist the wedding ring, still treating it as a object of comfort as he eyed the digital clock on a table for the time.  
Twelve thirty-five pm.

He has to be back soon, that was Adam's rationalisation. He was never too late. He said that to himself sometimes, when Nigel had walked through the door high on something. It only happened once or twice but the fear that nipped through Adam prayed for it not to be a common occurrence.

Lucky for him, someone answered his prayer just this once.

He heard the door click open a few rooms over, nothing for a moment, then it slammed closed.  
Footfalls, still with shoes on as the clicks were heavy, headed to the living room, rounding the corner.  
Nigels eyes met Adams, and a small smile crept on to Adams face, he couldn't help it. It felt good to see his husband after his absence.

"Nigel. Where..were you? It's past midnight."  
He scans his husband. He doesn't look high or upset or joyus. He's just normal Nigel.

"I'm late." He announces, obviously. "You should be a little used to that by now, darling."

It sounds harsh, but Nigels tone and his ghost of a smirk make it better.  
Adam agrees. He's been late a lot recently. But that doesn't make it fair.

"Yes, you've been late a lot coming home. I know. It’s not fair, though. I missed you and you know I don’t like not knowing when you’re coming back.”  
Adam speaks about it so matter o-factly, it pulls at Nigel’s heart strings, not that Adam can tell the effect it has on the man.

He thinks, that’s probably what causes the unrest. The feeling of not knowing, being scared of what he can’t predict. Other people sometimes got mad at him for it, like Beth. But he needs stability. And people are a part of that.

Adam doesn’t need to think much about his grievances anymore, when Nigel holds him and whispers promises and comfort into his ear, ghosting touches all over him. For tonight, Adam can indulge him, and he does. He likes the feeling of his husband's embrace, his sweet voice, he goes red in the face.

Any other person would probably protest. It reminds him of Beth. She never wanted to do this when she had any kind of problem or little unsorted issue, unspoken, with Adam. Everything had to be right, right in the ways which even Adam got confused and sometimes frustrated by.

But Adam wasn't Beth, he was himself. He didn't protest when Nigel dragged him into the bedroom, putting fevered kisses and the occasional hickey on his neck. He didn't protest because he wanted it.

He fell asleep next to Nigel, wrapped tightly in his arms, an hour later.

The sun hits his eyes, even through a curtain and his eyelids, he can always tell because the darkness is tinted an orange, if that’s even possible. Adam stirs awake, feeling light, odd. Off. The man opens his eyes, resisting the urge to cover them again as the bright rays shine into his room.

His body turns, finding the lack of another next to him. The bed is clean, there isn’t any dents or recent creases. It’s just empty, an absence.

His dried lips part to call out his husband’s name, but as soon as he sits up in the bed he knows the apartment is still, undisturbed. No one else but him.

The thing is, he can always tell. With Nigel, he carries something with him, alike to an aura or noise. If Nigel is in a room with you, you would notice. Feel him, sense him, and it was that sense that made Adam feel at peace.

It could be a smell, like a cigarette, which would sometimes catch in Adam’s throat and make him cough, but it came to be a sweet reminder of someone special. It could be a pattern, like the blue dog shirt he gathered was one of Nigel’s favourite shirts. Small things that he came to learn about his other half.  
Things he couldn’t live without.

It caused a deep ache in his chest, if only for a moment. There was none of that. The faint smells, the feelings, the little noises of him doing things around the house. He felt lonely, even if that didn’t make much sense. He still held a ring on his finger.  
There was just a certain point where a constant presence was expected, he supposes.

Adam stayed quiet, opting to get dressed. He didn’t take as long as usual. He didn’t feel like he had that much time to give.  
He goes for the closet, hand instinctively reaching for the left side, where he kept his clothes. His eyes however, drifted to the right.

They went through their clothes at the same time, that was normal. It made it easier for Adam to sort out the laundry. He still liked to do that.  
Unless there were stray drops of red on Nigel's clothes, which was harder to get out. He sometimes got mad at Nigel for that.

The closet was usually equal Adam’s clothes, dark sweaters and button up shirts, as it was Nigel’s clothes, short sleeved shirts and smarter clothes.

That wasn’t the case though.  
A few of Nigel’s clothes were gone. Enough to make a sizeable dent in the rack of fabrics.  
Adam’s hand brushes through the clothes, feeling them. They were just gone. The clothes that had been discarded the previous night shoved in the basket, so Adam could excuse just one pair. But this was more than one.

The man shoved his own clothes on, haphazardly buttoning quickly, and pulling socks on. His hands jittered.

The man pushed open his bedroom door, inspecting the living room for any details. Anything that could confirm any of the thoughts that he had swirling in his head, that didn't show on his face.  
His mouth pulled in a tight line, his brows slightly twitched down, he didn't look angry or upset and he knew that.

Nigel's phone. If Adam frequently saw something, it was one of Nigels phones. Which he didn't like, he insisted they should always be kept on you at all times or be put away. Not thrown around, in random spots. Which Adam may have accidentally broken once or twice.

But like with a lot of things, Nigel payed his small nitpick no mind or simply forgot, and always left it lying somewhere.

His phone was gone. Anywhere Adam looked it wasn't there. Not the table, not fallen under the bed, not hidden between the sofa cushions.  
His clothes were gone. Adam could see the fridge from here - no note.  
Various fridge magnets, dogs, photos they took together ages ago, lists that hadn't been taken down.  
No note.

Adam, if he wasn't mistaken, felt his heart fall from his chest. A while ago, he wouldn't have cared, relaxing with his usual routine with the occasional check on his phone for a call or text.

The truly sad part, the part that made his breath quicken and his hands flinch is that he knew. The effect this had on him.

If you asked Adam months ago if he had a job, he would’ve said yes. He had one, a happy one he travelled a long way to get. His co-workers were not the best and he didn’t enjoy moving such a distance, but he liked his work. That was enough for him.

He didn’t have that now and he knew a charming, tall Romanian man had taken it from him. And Adam let him take it.

He couldn’t pinpoint when it started. Neither of them could. Small things at first, as usual. Nigel was the one who made the hard decisions, and eventually it became so easy, to just let him make the choices and have someone know what was best for him.

He wanted Adam to not go to work as much? Okay, he can request time off.  
He wanted Adam to quit his job? But he likes it. But if Nigel begs and pleads, he promises Adam he can do some work at home when he likes, okay then.

He wanted Adam to stay with him more? Okay. He likes spending time with Nigel.

He wants Adam to marry him? Yes.

He would be lying if he said it didn't have an effect on their sexual life. Adam never thought he was one to be any kind of adventurous person in the bedroom, he didn't like trying a lot of new things. It unsettled him.

But like with a lot of things, Nigel convinced him. He suggested things and made them sound nice, pleasurable. More time spent with him, skin to skin with his husband. Adam couldn't turn away from that.

He didn't rush Adam or be unkind or get frustrated. He guided him into things, gently as gentle could be when he was hitting him across the ass or holding his throat with a tight grip.  
Adam thought it was strange at first. Then it resonated, and it gave him the security he looked for. Even if it hurt, it still made his face turn red.  
He was to do what Nigel told him and if he didn't, if he went against his word, he would get punished. He felt safe in Nigel's tight hold.  
It made sense and he liked it. He liked it a lot, and he knew Nigel liked it because whenever he did what he told him, reacted in a way he wanted, he would call him good.

Adam wanted to be good for Nigel.

Questions that became so easy, so relaxing to answer, and Nigel knew that. He knew what he was doing and it felt good that Adam let him indulge in it.  
It meant the world to them both, as long as they were happy, and Adam always felt happy with Nigel, as long as he listened to him.

But he hadn’t been and now he’s gone. Nigel is gone.

Adam has moved position. He couldn’t remember his feet carrying him there. He’s in front of a mirror, but can’t really see himself.

Now there’s blood dripping down his forehead, and something loud cracked and fell on the floor in front of him.

Nigel opens the door hours later, he doesn’t know what time it is and the floor sways beneath him, and he can swear the walls are moving just a little.  
He smells of alcohol and drugs, not much but enough to make him out of it, the smallest bit. Not that much, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t come home like that.

But even in this state he knows this is not any better and Adam will still be angry. He can picture him, wearing one of his sweaters and confronting Nigel in the hall about drugs and something about routine.  
Guilt pangs at his heart whenever Adam gets like that, speaks like that to him. He can never take him one-hundred percent seriously.

He throws the keys into a pot in the entrance, stepping into the apartment. An angry Adam is what he expects, one who smells the drink on his breath, but that is not what he gets.

He sits there, rocking lightly back and forth on the floor, and glass shards are still scattered on the wood. Dried blood is on his head.

“Adam. What the fuck did you do? Is your head alright?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Adam...Did you hit the fucking mirror again?”

He doesn’t bother to confirm, looking up at Nigel. He isn’t too surprised at the man’s state.

“You didn’t leave a note.”

“What? Darling, speak up.”

“You didn’t…leave a note. You always do that, Nigel.”  
Disregarding the glass caught in the fabric of his socks, Adam gets up from his position on the floor, hands stimming at his sides.

“I thought you were gone! How am I supposed to know if you come back or not!? Dumb Adam, let's not tell him when I decide to up and leave! He won't notice!"  
His voice raises. Adam barely raises his voice.

Nigel’s clear concern is put on the back burn and turned defensive. He steps closer to Adam.  
“You really think I’m going to up and leave you in the middle of the fucking night? Is that what you think of me?”

He almost interrupts him, pacing back and forth.  
"Stupid fucking Adam! I give you what you want! You can't just decide to run away with your stupid gang! And your drugs!"

Maybe he shouldn't insult Nigel's work. Things that he sacrifices his time and safety for. But Adam does not care right now and he cannot see straight or think and he's almost crying.

Nigel's face drops.  
He approaches Adam, stops him in the relentless pacing before he has the chance to hit something or hurt himself again. The grip on the other man's arm is tight.

"I think you should stop before you say something you fucking regret, darling."

"Get off of me!-"

"Adam! You don't want to play this shit game with me."

“I didn’t-”

“What, you didn’t mean it like that? You don’t know? I have a business to take care of, darling. You know that. Or do you? The drugs are what keep us from being out on the fucking street.”  
The harsh smell of alcohol makes Adam reconsider his argument. He stills.

“When you get upset, you don’t hurt yourself, or throw shit, or hurt me. That’s right, isn’t it?,” Phrased as a question but Nigel doesn’t wait for a response. It wasn't a question.  
“You hold your arms. You don’t go near the mirror or anything that you'll use."

Adam can’t think of anything to do but nod his head, and that's probably what Nigel expects.

“We need to clean that, then I need to have a talk with you, darling."

Adam knows he will not be the one cleaning the wound.

3.  
When Adam asks, Nigel always tries to be honest. There's little he could keep from him. Of course, a white lie here and there to save his ass but nothing Nigel would hate if someone said it to him.

With that honesty, which he wasn't entirely used to, could come difficult sometimes with Adam. He would have to say things he didn't want to say. Admit things he didn't want to admit.  
But for the most part, he managed.

It's been a few days since Adam had a meltdown and smashed his forehead in the mirror, something Nigel knew he shouldn't have kept in Adam's sight when he was gone. But he couldn't help it, he was a busy man and sometimes had to run out of the door faster than it would take for Adam to stir awake.

It was gone now, no use to anyone broken like that.  
So was most of Adam's problems with him that night.  
They had a talk, what Nigel would consider a little bit of progress. It ended with Adam in tears and saying sorry, as well as moaning Nigel's name.

He thinks all the grievances are cleared, and he is happy again. As happy as expected.

He had a business, and there were often problems with it. Nothing that isn't to be expected in the…illegal side of things, he tells Adam. Problems were expected when he was forced to work with fucking idiots. It's not his fault.

But like before, like a few times before, Nigel shushed Adam's worries and gave him the structure and control that made him feel safe.

The problems came when he had to be honest, overly honest with Adam and then he probably wouldn't want his comfort anymore.  
Especially not with a special date rapidly approaching, that they both usually took pleasure in, or had hoped to this time.

Regardless of how much more of an added challenge these past few days have been, Adam was looking forward to in a week.  
Their first anniversary as a married couple. He didn't see the point in it, at first. But Nigel had showed him how it symbolises a lot of things in a couples life together, so he came to appreciate it.

He had hoped it would make everything okay, and perfect again.

"Adam."

Nigel's hand stroked idly through his husband's hair, twisting strands in his fingers before letting them fall and repeating the process.  
He felt Adam's head push deeper into the crook of his neck at the sound of his name.

"Mm?" A muffled questioning noise came from him, Nigel could feel it vibrate against his skin and struggled not to chuckle.  
This wasn't really the time for that.

"Darling, you need to listen. This is serious."  
He almost swears. Almost. He catches himself before he puts a damper on Adam's mood so , before the actual news he knows will make him upset. 

His husband confirms he's listening, with a tint in his brow. He's a little concerned, Nigel knows it

Adam wasn't the best with picking up social ques, it was apparent when you met the man.He would probably never be concerned if his boss pulled him in for a meeting out of the blue and talking about how good of a job he's been doing for them.

It didn't register with Adam.

It reminded Nigel of the time he had to resist beating that bosses face in for firing Adam, probably just because of his autism

"You know I'm busy a lot. Busy enough as it fucking is,having to leave all the time. Pricks." He's getting a little off track, he notices as Adam swats him on the arm.

"Right. So, darling, I'm about to get a lot more fucking occupied. Darko, you remember him,

Nigel knows they met once. Can't get it out of his head, actually. Adams awkward face when Darko slung expressions at him that he didn't understand or know how to respond to. He supposed the blaring atmosphere of the club didnt help, poor Adam getting freaked out by it

Darko may have called him a cocksucker for a while afterwards. God knows he didn't insult Adam though, or he would've met the wrath of Nigel's fucking fist.

"Well his runty little goonies are causing trouble. A few of them, in particular. Shit that I've been left to mop up."

An exasperated sigh left Nigel

"It's looking like I have to go away for a bit. And you can't come with, darling. More trouble than I can fucking deal with here."

Adam takes a moment to register. His face slowly pulls out from Nigel’s neck, furrowed brows. He sits up, but doesn’t stand. Nigel’s grip won’t let him stand.

“What? You- You can’t go.”

“I can, and I have to, Adam.”

“No, Nigel, the anniversary is in 5 days. I need things calm, I need you to be here, I need everything to be in _place_ and we need-”

He’s panicking, going off track and off the rails. Nigel knows, this has happened way more than once or twice. His hands tighten like a weighted blanket.

“Adam, I know. Fucking trust me, I don’t wanna do this,” He considered letting Adam know this is optional, but that will do him no good. Only more arguing. He needs his husband on his side for this, for when he comes back. 

“But we need to, I need to. It’ll only be for a day or two.”

Adam tries to push him away, but it’s half hearted, his arms give out. It’s a kind of useless fighting.

“No, no, I don’t know if it’s safe. It’s too soon-”

“In two days. I’ll be a few hours away, maybe five or six. I’m always safe, Adam. Hell darling, who’s the one always fussing about not going out alone? Me. _You’re_ who anyone here needs to fucking worry about.”

He interupts Adam, again. A habit, he couldn’t deny it, even if his husband hates it. He can see him searching his eyes, for just a moment. Nigel loved it whenever they met eyes, even if Adam always looked away as quick as he could. It was special. 

But something turned in them, like a clog clicking. 

Adam finally shoved himself out of Nigel’s grip, pacing on the hard wood floor in front of him, not before backing away. Resigning physically from the situation, his arms threatened to jerk.

“..Are you doing this for the money? Please don’t _lie_ to me, Nigel.” His voice wobbles and for a moment thinks he’s going to cry.

Adam isn’t dumb. If that's what anyone thought they were dead wrong. If Adam was anything but Nigel’s husband he was a smart, capable man. 

Nigel falters. He never used to have money problems, not with Gabi. Things were good then, newly married man, new life, recovered from an almost fatal injury. Shit was amazing, until it wasn't and then it fell apart. 

He supposed since he left and came back to Romania, for the 2nd fucking time, money had been a bit tight. It took an honest while for Darko to warm up to the man again, since he apparently 'fucked everything up for him' which Nigel wasn't willing to take full credit for that. 

He'd made things a bit harder, but at least he still destroyed that fucking tape. 

His hand brushes his chin, resisting the urge to pull out a cigarette and start smoking it. 

"No, darling. If I was doing this for only the money it would be well fucking obvious. Any money helps, you know that." 

"But it's a reason! You're almost lying." 

His voice cracks, pacing quickens and he's trying hard not to throw his arms around because Nigel doesn't like it when he does that. 

"Hey, hey, I would never tell a bare- a big lie to you,"

He surpresses a sigh. 

"It's partly for the money Adam. But not all of it, not for the most part." 

"...Please don't go." 

It's all he can think to say. He can't beg, he can't ask one-thousand involved questions, he just says. Don't go. 

  
  


Nigel's work phone in his pocket, for once, rings. He looks into Adam's eyes before answering. 

"What the fuck do you want?" 

His face goes pale. Nigel leaves Adam standing in the living room, giving a half hug before he goes to the balcony and shuts the sliding door. 

Adam doesn't know how to convince him anymore. But he knows how he can fix this himself. 

Nigel hopes this wasn't as bad as he thought it was. But guilt hits his heart, and he wishes all of this was over. 

  
  
  
  


4.

Adam knew what was best for himself, even if other people thought they knew better. He needed routine, yes, structure, yes, a sense of control, yes. But he had been doing this for his whole life and caring for his own needs after a long 29 years had only gotten easier. 

But people, like Beth or Harlan, thought they knew better. They tried to stop him from doing things he knew he needed to do. 

Nigel was never like that. 

He had to help him understand, at first. He hadn't expected a lot but the charming Romanian was clueless when it came to autism spectrum disorder. And that was fair, Adam reasoned, that had no place in his life and no reason for him to know the first thing about it. 

It took a while, books, endless googling and reminding, but Nigel had learned how Adam's mind worked for the most part. He never sought out new information or coping mechanisms, Adam had to do that, but he couldn't blame him. Nigel asked for a partner, not a guide manual. 

He forgot things, he always did, but as long as Adam _had_ Nigel, he had him to rely on, it was okay. 

He sometimes pushed him further than he could go, but Adam gave a solid reminder of when that happened, and it rarely did again. 

Sometimes he treated Adam like he didn't need a routine, and he met the consequences of an upset and distraught Adam soon after. He learned.

He sometimes forgot a lot when he was drunk or angry but it was fine by the morning. It was fine. 

But if there was one thing he never did, not that Adam can ever recall, is stopping him from doing what he needed to do.He sits on his computer, hours later, scrolling uselessly through application sites. He was okay at looking for jobs, good even. He found a lot he liked or that he was qualified for, but it was the interviews that he didn't like. 

He found a perfectly good job here, that was why he was here in the first place. Maybe not perfect, it could've been a little better, nicer co workers, better pay, but he enjoyed it. 

Until he had to quit. Had to, not the exact right word but it was close enough. 

Nobody forced him to quit. Nigel had asked. He asked and he looked like he was begging and pleading. He gave Adam a lot of reasons and promises until he couldn't resist anymore, until it was practically a command, and Adam listened.

Because he wanted to. 

But it wasn't that situation anymore, and Nigel wasn't begging and pleading with him anymore or telling him what to do. The one thing he did have was problems, and Adam had a solution. 

He had applied to over 20 jobs. If he was at home, in America, it would've been more. But there was only so many he could qualify for when he didn't speak romanian. He needed a job with a lot of money quickly, that wasn't too far, and which was English friendly.

He didn't think he was asking for much. 

And apparently, neither did God or the universe. A day later, he got a response. 

He instantly checked his email, scanning through the words. Accepted or denied, anxiety fluttered in his heart.

'...you have an interview.' 

Those were the only words on the page that mattered. He memorized the time and place, it was today. He blinked. Today? 

Adam remembers the last time he got an interview. Beth helped him prep, they did it endlessly even when she was tired and wanted to sleep. He needed to be sure he got it right, so they wouldn't take one look and deny him. Like some people said would happen. 

But he was smart, he was good at what he did and if they couldn't see that, it was their fault. But there was still an interview today, and he doubted Nigel would take his whole day to help him. 

His hands brush the keyboard keys and fall on his lap. 

But he can try. Nigel loved him, right? So he should want what's best for him. 

  
  
  


Nigel can cope with a lot of things in his life. Fucking idiots messing his job up? Fine, he'll take care of them. Endless phone calls? He had to resist smashing the phone, but okay. 

When it came to Adam, it was different. He would do so, so much for Adam. Ever since he met him, saw his fluffy brown hair and stand out eyes, he was in love. He was the most beautiful man he ever saw. It was his husband, and Nigel said those vows and meant them with all of his heart. 

But when it came to letting Adam do things, he would do less. He meant the world to him, so he couldn't lose him. He wouldn't let the universe take Adam from him, because that's happened with more than one person before. He wouldn't let it happen again. He didn't own Adam, Adam wasn't his property, but he was his. 

That's why he protected Adam from danger, to keep him safe. God knows he could be a little naive sometimes. 

  
  


"Darling...are you fucking joking?" 

"No, I'm serious. It's not that far away on the train and you don't need to speak-" 

"No." 

Adam's brow furrowed. He dusted off his sweater, looking at Nigel quizzically.

"No. That's funny, Adam. You think I can let you go hours away to some random fucking job to get money we don't need? You already quit your last one, sweetheart."

Nigel wants to laugh. He thinks this funny, but can also feel the anger meter rising above normal levels. He would ask if Adam was on drugs, if that wasn't a stupid question. It's like he can't believe his ears. 

He left his other job, at Nigel's request, now he's practically demanding another one without any kind of warning. 

"Nigel, wait. I haven't even explained what the job entails yet. Its the same position I had at the other one, but this is more involved. I have more to do and way less talking, so it's good that I don't need to speak Romanian for it," 

He tries to stomach it, he really does. He always used to love to listen to Adam go on and on about space shit he knows nothing about, and he didn't retain a lot of the information but he loved it. Hearing Adam so excited and compassionate about things made Nigel smile. 

This isn't something he can stomach. Adam is passionate about it, but it's dangerous. And this, his words, his expression, its bargaining. This is a bargaining Adam, he's seen it many times before. This is an Adam desperately trying to get what he thinks he wants. 

He needs to make him understand that this is not happening.

“Adam. I’m not letting you do this, no matter what you fucking say, darling, it’s not happening. Too dangerous.”

“You can’t just tell me when I can’t get a job!-”

“I can, and I just did. Don’t make this harder on yourself, darling.”

Nigel’s hands find Adam’s, then his shoulders and arms, rubbing them with gentle touches. His face is so close to his, Nigel can feel Adam’s quick breaths. 

“This isn’t fair.”

His hold tightens. It’s not a warning, or it could be, Adam doesn’t know what to take it as. He’s confused and he’s hurt.

“Sweetheart, I’ve always given you what you wanted, huh? This is very fucking fair. I need...to keep you safe,”

“Nigel…”

Adam whispers his name, as a protest, a declaration, asking, he isn’t sure.

He’s sure that this is not just, however.

“I love you, Adam. Till death do fucking us part; and I am not dead, neither are you.”

Nigel means that, more than he has meant anything in a long time.

  
  


This is not fair. It is not fair and Adam is sure Nigel knows it.

After saying I love you, something he rarely said but Nigel loved to repeat and repeat, which made Adam feel safe. But now, it didn’t, not in that moment. Nigel left to the balcony again, to smoke or take a phone call or whatever he did when he was busy.

He knew, the moment Nigel reacted to what he said, he shouldn’t have told him. He should’ve been independent, but something calls in him, he thinks he hasn’t done that for a long time. 

He regrets saying that now. He will probably pay for it later, maybe tonight. Nigel will make him forget about ever wanting a job with his rough hands and sweet words. 

That’s how it usually would go, and that’s what a bit of him still wanted. A large bit of him. 

He thinks this is what Nigel has been fostering inside him for a long time.

Nigel is not a villain. Adam would refute that the moment anyone said it. But he is troubled, Adam’s troubled husband. And he loves that, even if he doesn’t know why or want to be obsessed with him so deeply, but he is. 

He doesn’t think that will change, ever. 

What Adam can do, is something he should’ve done a while ago. He can show Nigel that he is stronger than he thinks he is.

5.

It was easy enough to leave. The front door and the clinking of the keys was never that loud, so Adam could slip out of the house without Nigel realising he was gone, if he had even the smallest bit of luck. Which was granted to him, so he didn’t notice.

He put on a suit, nice enough for an interview, smart clothes with darker colors. That was basically all of the clothes he owned. His over-the-shoulder bag rests on his side, with his resume and anything else he thought he needed.

This won’t be easy, he knows that. He feels a spike of anxiety when the apartment door closes behind him. The door leads to a little alleyway, which leads onto a main street next to a big building which Adam never went inside of or asked about. It looked like fancy architecture, though. 

It’s not often he goes outside without Nigel. He’s used to his presence, holding his hand where nobody can see, hidden behind them or in front of them. Adam was more scared of doing anything like that in public, he didn’t want people to stare. Nigel barely cared about it at all. 

But he wasn’t with Nigel, he was at home and Adam was halfway down the street to the nearest train station, so he had to stop thinking about it.

Some people looked at him, not many, but wondering glances. Adam had to remind himself they were not staring at him, it was illogical. Maybe they were just people watching.

He did that with Nigel a few times. It was fun. 

He walked down the stairs to the train station, the setting sun lost over the hanging wall supporting the stairs. Nigel was bound to notice he was gone by now, but he wouldn’t have a chance of finding him. Not in a busy place such as this. That was fine. This is fine, better than Adam expected. Nothing is happening. 

As he gets on the train, he smiles to himself, looking down into his lap. Nobody is trying to talk to him, there are no problems. It’s just the noise of the train on the tracks, one or two people talking on the phone and background noises. 

Now he could think about the interview, he had peace to. The small knot of anxiety still ties in the pit of his stomach, but it isn’t too bad, he thinks. 

Nigel grins, keeping a sly laugh behind his knuckle. 

“Oh, right, right, fucking right, so none of this was your fault?”

The terrified man behind him, writhing under Nigel’s shoe shakes his head frantically.

“No, no, no sir it isn’t.”

Nigel thinks this is pathetic, like a lot of things. This fucking clown cunt was the source of the majority of his problems. He expects a straight answer when he confronts him next to a warehouse in some back alley. But that is not what he gets. Coward can’t even own up to what he’s done, instead playing blame-tag. ‘No, it was this guy who told me to do this because this guy said this to him’.

Nigel was tired. He was tired and he was so, so fucking frustrated. He was sick.

“Is that fucking right? I bet it is.”

He raises the gun and he shoots the bastard in the skull. Blood hits on his dark shirt, barely visible. 

That was the problem taken care of. He had to resist shooting the man till he wasn’t fucking identifyable, but Darko would take care of that for him with a word in a text.

He shoves the gun back into his jeans, and walks out of the alleyway. No one looks. No one pays attention. It’s none of their business. What was his business, is that he had to spend time and energy taking care of that pathetic bastard and leave Adam on his own again. 

It wasn’t what he wanted to do. He still had to leave tomorrow, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Adam, feel his skin against his own. 

Not waste time on people he didn’t care about. He wanted Adam. Nigel didn’t even have time to find him properly or say ‘goodbye’, he just shouted it out from the door and didn’t hear a response.

It wouldn’t surprise him if Adam was still angry. He wanted that job so bad, it was written all over his face and Nigel had denied him it. That was the way it worked though, and Adam had to have known that the moment he applied for the stupid fucking thing. It was just too much of a risk for Nigel to even consider. He had enemies, if that wasn’t obvious enough. Ones that would jump at the chance to hurt Adam to hurt Nigel in the process. Some might’ve called it paranoia, but it was enough for him. No way was he letting that happen. 

He snapped a quick text to Darko, and set off to go home.

He missed Adam.

It went well. It actually went well, at least he thought. He was overwhelmed at first.

“Mr.Raki? If you’d like to take a seat.”

Where? There were a lot of seats and he didn’t know if someone was going to get mad at him for sitting in the wrong place.

“Mr.Raki? You’re here for the interview? Lovely to meet you, sorry it was such short notice.”

The woman didn’t stick her arm out for a handshake, was he supposed to do that first? Did she just not want one?

“Why do you want to work here?”

Well, he needs money and he wants independence. That much is obvious, and almost a default response, until he realises Beth taught him not to say that. You give them what they want to hear.

As he walks out of the building and on the train back home, he realises this wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. 

It’s only half way through the ride back that he realises Nigel will be waiting when he opens the door. 

6.

Nigel paces back and forth. He should’ve expected this, really, how much of a fucking idiot is he? More naive than Adam, apparently. The cigarette smoke he puffs out fills the air, he almost misses the ash tray as he throws it away. 

Adam is not answering his phone. He isn’t answering texts, he isn’t here, neither is his bag. 

Nigel is seriously considering himself an idiot for trusting Adam to stay in the fucking house after that agrument. Why didn’t he consider the option that he could’ve just left? The door is right fucking there and it’s not like Nigel holds the key.He supposes it’s because it's been so long since he left the house without him, he just didn’t expect it.

He feels desperate. Nothing is worse than the possibility that Adam won’t come back tonight. He was always the one to leave, not Adam, not Gabi. He was the one who woke up to missed calls or a confrontation whenever he walked in the door. He never had that happen to him. Nigel wasn’t used to it. 

His fingers found his phone in his pocket again, pressing the call button on Adam’s name. This was the seventh missed call and it felt agonizing. 

‘The person you are calling is not available at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone.’ 

“Fuck!”

Nigel threw the phone at the wall, it shattered at impact, the battery clattering a few feet away. 

He just wants Adam back here.

  
  
  


“Nigel?” 

Adam’s head peered over from the corner of the doorway. His brows are knitted, looking at the phone broken on the floor.

He looks over the fastest he thinks he’s ever done in his life. Adam. He’s there and he’s safe. He’s safe and he’s fine. Nigel walks over to him, and Adam reluctantly meets him halfway. He doesn’t touch him, staring at his slightly startled face instead.

“You’re okay?”

“Yes...I’m fine, Nigel.”

He grabs Adam’s arms and squeezes him like he’s afraid he’s going to disappear. He holds the back of his head, fingers stroking Adam’s brown hair. He doesn’t want to believe Adam did this. He wants his embrace so badly but he is not willing to provide it before he knows fully the answer he doesn’t want to get.

Nigel pulls away.

“Why did you answer my calls? Where the fuck were you? How _long_ have you been gone for?” The questions are quick and desperate and frustrated.

Adam steps away. Again, it's what he expected. He can smell cigarettes and faint alcohol on Nigel’s mouth and doesn’t want to be near it, it’s too sickly and too strong. 

“I went to the job interview. It went well, Nigel.”

Some part of him wants Nigel to understand. He wants him to say it’s okay, he wants to be hugged by somebody who doesn’t chainsmoke, he wants to feel safe.But then that’s not Nigel. That’s not the man he fell in love with and he knows it.

“You what?” 

It takes Nigel a moment to wrap his head around what Adam is saying. He knows it’s what he expected but it’s different when it’s coming from his mouth, and he’s standing right in front of him saying it.

“I _specifically_ told you to not fucking go there. I _told you_ that you weren’t to fucking go there, darling.”

“Stop.”

“What?”

Adam takes a suffocated breath. “Fucking stop, Nigel. Shut up. I am so _tired_ of listening to your bullshit.”

Nigel pauses. He never swears this much, never at all until he met him. Until Nigel taught him how, until he picked it up from Nigel. 

This wasn’t his Adam. He was upset and frustrated, out of all the things Adam could do, he couldn’t think straight when he was frustrated.

“You can’t talk to me like that, Adam. You know better.”

“Do I? Do I know better, Nigel? Tell me, is constantly listening to every little thing you tell me, knowing better?” He spits. Adam’s legs carry him across the living room, and halfway into the dining room until Nigel stops him. 

“Going to that fucking interview was being stupid! That wasn’t fucking knowing better, that was you having a little rebellious streak because you were upset I didn’t give you want you wanted.”

He says the words with anger, harsh. And that's how he wants it to sound, and that is how he feels. 

Everything was fine until Adam started wanting his own things, and in the moment Nigel doesn’t realise how pathetic that sounds.

“Really!?” Adam pulls his arm, but Nigel won’t let go. His bag falls from his other arm onto a lump on the floor. For once he isn’t overstimulated and upset, he’s just upset.

“I have always given you what you wanted. Anything you told me to do I listened. I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of you.”

Nigel knows he doesn’t mean that. He can’t mean that, because the ring on his finger says otherwise.

“You don’t mean that, Adam.”

“Don’t I? Do you know what I mean? You think you know what's best for me? Would you rather me stay in this apartment all day and wait for you to come back like a dog? Is _that_ what you want?”

Nigel flinches, because the bad thing is, the thing his overwhelmed mind can’t comprehend is that _is_ what some part of him wants. 

“...”

He doesn’t know what to say and that's when Adam knows he hit a sensitive spot. 

He pulls himself out of Nigel’s grip, picks his bag up from the floor and goes into the bedroom. Nigel follows, tailing him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Adam throws his bag on the bed, unpacking it. 

“I want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He digs his feet into the ground as if that will help his situation. 

“This is my apartment, Nigel. I want you to get out.”

He knows Nigel will refuse and refute because that is all he ever does. Some part of Adam thinks it’s all he knows how to do. 

“I am not fucking leaving. This is our apartment that we got with _our_ money, but mostly fucking mine if you’ve forgotten, darling.”

The nickname he usually uses, a term of endearment, is laced with sarcasm, even of which Adam can detect because Nigel never sounds like that when he talks to him. Nigel steps closer, getting in Adam’s face.

“

Get away from me. Get away.” Adam’s quick, flustered words come out faster than his brain can process and he almost trips over them. Nigel doesn’t move. Nothing is going the way he wants. He raises his hands and pushes Nigel, stepping around the bed, backing away. 

“I can survive without you, Nigel! I don’t need you!”

Something in Nigel clicks, or rather, snaps. He is physically losing Adam. He can’t let that happen but his fuzzled mind doesn’t know how to get him back or the difference between pushing him further away. All he knows is that Adam has never pushed him like that before.

“You can’t do _anything_ without me, Adam,” he reminds him, with a false kind of angry smile. “You’re a child. You need me to control you or you’re just helpless. Don’t be _pathetic,_ darling.”

Adam stops, for a moment. He doesn’t know what to say. But not for long because two can play at this stupid game of rising anger. He shakes his head.

“Out of all the people to say that to me, I didn’t think you would. You don’t love me. Liar.”

Nigel has never been called a liar by Adam before. He doesn’t like how it feels. Adam zips open his bag, going to the closet and flushing out any clothes that come off of the rail the easiest, stuffing them inside.

“What are you doing?”

He’s almost afraid to ask because he knows what response he will get.

“If you aren’t leaving, I am.” Adam tries to sound tough, but he can’t anymore. Everything is too loud or too quiet and everything just looks like colors and shapes. This is too much. Tears fall over from his eyes and his voice cracks. 

“Adam,” Nigel walks over to him, not angrily or demanding, he just comes over to him. 

“You aren’t leaving.”

“..Yes, I am. I’m leaving and you can’t stop me, Nigel..”

His voice sounds broken, the fighting spirit barely remains. 

Nigel’s hand finds Adam’s shoulders, and pulls him into an embrace he can’t get out of.

“When we had our wedding, Adam, our shitty little makeshift wedding, with our own vows, I remember what I said to you,”

Adam doesn’t hug him back, he doesn’t move his arms, doesn’t turn away from the half packed bag, but he hides his head in the other man's neck. 

“I said ‘till death do us fucking part’, so did you. I’m standing by that, Adam.”

“Till death do us part. I’m not dying anytime soon, darling. I love you. We are together forever, even if it’s tough.”

“...I love you, Nigel.”


End file.
